I’m not a cat person. Many times, I’ve made Eric regret we ever rescued Rhythm, with everything I’ve had to say about her shedding, shredding, and generally making my life more difficult.
So it must have been the glass of wine. It’s the only explanation.
How We Met Blues the Cat
Here’s what happened.
It was the Saturday night of Labor Day weekend, and we had found an epic national forest campground between Asheville and Savannah. It was pitch dark as Eric and I sat around a pretty lame fire. Wet wood–gets you every time. In the whimpering light of the fire, a shape emerged from the woods.
It was a small cat, and he wanted to meet us.
Earlier in the day as we were walking around the campground, our neighbor asked whether we had a cat that had gotten out. She had already met this little guy, mentioning to us that he seemed hungry.
Hungry was the understatement. He was meowing and I was gripped with compassion for him. I had just had a bad experience in Asheville, where a tiny puppy was tied up on a short leash outside an RV, with no one seeming to pay attention to him or take care of him. I wanted to do something, but couldn’t. Now here was a hungry kitty, and I had tuna.
Imagine my surprise when I got back outside with the bowl. This strange cat, with no collar, who had emerged from the woods late at night, was curled up on Eric’s lap, purring so loud you could hear it a long way off.
He gobbled the half can of tuna, then the other half. Then he hopped up on my lap and made himself comfortable.
It must’ve been the wine, but who could resist? After Eric finished talking with our eldest son Darius who had called, I had something to say: “His name is Blues.”
I didn’t exactly know whether we were going to keep him forever. But I knew we couldn’t leave him at that national forest campground. He was obviously a domesticated cat that had been abandoned, and there was no way he was going to make it out there.
And that is how we came to adopt Blues the cat, making a harmonic cat duo: Rhythm and Blues.
Getting to Know Blues the Cat
When we took Blues to Banfield, the vet said he looked great. He was about five months old at the time, coincidentally putting his birthday right around Rhythm’s estimated birthday of March 31. Rhythm is two years older since we rescued her from a Kentucky campground in 2015 as a tiny kitten. Blues now has his shots and has been fixed. He’ll get his booster shots in Florida on Monday.
I’m not a cat person…but this cat. He is so sweet and so friendly. He loves to cuddle. Eric can hardly work in the morning because Blues hops on his chest and blocks his computer. He’s really sweet with Caspian, too.
Rhythm and Blues
And what about Rhythm? The jury is still out. At first, Rhythm was totally freaked and didn’t want Blues anywhere near her. It doesn’t help that Rhythm isn’t the friendliest cat to begin with. After a week or two, they could coexist in the same space. Now, they sniff noses every once in a while. But it’s totally on Rhythm’s terms. Just now, Blues walked up to Rhythm, who’s sitting on the passenger captain’s chair, and Rhythm hissed at him.
Blues just wants to play with Rhythm. He’s still a kitten and has a lot of energy. But Rhythm is mean to him for no reason. Cats.
So, honestly, I’m not sure what is going to happen. I can’t envision eight+ years of fighting cats in a home that’s 40 feet long. But I’m going to give it some more time to see what happens. Both Eric and I want Rhythm and Blues to be part of our permanent family. I hope it works out.